Crossroads
by HVK
Summary: Raven and Raven talk things over, whilist the other Titans muse internally, and Havok runs into a preppy cult of horrible painful DOOM!
1. The Spirit Within and Other Randomness

Hey everybody! If anyone flames me, I'll set you on fire. Verbally, of course. I reward reviews, and bring on the cristisim! I've been working on this for quite a while, and if you like this, check out my other stuff.

Disclaimer:I own nothing. Nothing, you hear? NOTHING! DC Comics own the Titans, and Dean Koontz owns the below qoute. I also heavily borrow from White Wolf's cosmology. Just warning ya.

_Stranger fiends hide here in human guise_

_then reside in the valleys of Hell._

_But goodness, kindness, and love arise_

_in the heart of the poor beast as well._

_**-The Bad Place, Dean Koontz**_

The superhero team known as the Teen Titans had recently come back from a tiresome day that involved battling giant mechas that had been commandeered by libarians who had been driven insane by the stress of converting from the Dewey Decimal system to a computerized inventory. And that was after the militant rednecks. This is definitely our story.

Roughly six hundred years ago, on a continent famed for it's lack of sun, a king stood dumbfounded as a lunatic black knight threatened to kill him, despite a lack of arms and legs. While part of an entertaining movie, this is hopefullynot part of our story.

In another dimension, a man and a hichhiker's guide editor that happened to be an alien were rescued from the earth; shortly before it was demolished to clear way for an hyperspacial bypass, despite the fact that recent technology had rendered such things useless. While still not part of our story, it is interesting to note that the man's house had earlier been demolished to make way for a bypass.

In a sprite comic universe, a sadistic mage; a moronic warrior; an obsessive roleplayer; and a con-artistic thief were on a weird adventure loosely based on the events of Final Fantasy 1. What with a secretuve martial artist and magickal healer duo, insanely bored wizards of inconceivable powers and deceptively evil princesses, this is most definitely not our story, as I am not Brian Clevenger.

In another universe, a short alien and his terminally insane moronic robot strove to conquer the earth for a pair of snack-obsessed taller aliens while a demented paranoid child sought to outwit them with idiot plots that a mute moron could see through. Thanks be to the powers above that this is not our story, or I would have the wrath of a thosand rabid fans on me. That hurts, ya know.

Yes, the inhabitants of the giant 'T' were having a rough day and barely eight hours after they had wearily plopped down after the fangirl swarm, they woke up.

Yawing laboriously, Beast Boy scratched his head while making low noises of the bodily varient.

He then, with a sudden fear of horrible pokey death, wondered why he had awakened in Raven's room.

Staring at the fearsome murals, he quivered in fear, at least until the paranoia got to him and he fled from the room, screaming like an idiot.

Behind, Raven watched smugly, musing on the fact that she, too, could pull a trick. He would be twitchy for days.

Beast Boy's bad day was fortunately brief, but he was unaware that the Titans would share it in an excruciatingly manner.

The others' bad day developed in an annoying way; what with Cyborg...well...

He rapidly awoke from sleep, when he realised a significant lack of space. Besides the fact that it was an impenetrable dark, it happened to be an immense space that seemed to be infinite, although it gave off the impression of infinity far better then the real thing did.

You see infinity when you look into starless sky, so infinity is distance which is incomprehensible and therefore meaningless. In terms of raw size, gigantic plus immense multipled by colossal to the power of staggeringly huge is the kind of scale I'm trying to get across to convey the humongousity of space.

Okay. It's big. You got it.

Not to meander, but Cyborg was a little unnerved by the darkness, so he slapped himself. "OW! Okay, so it's not a dream." Looking around, and switching on his lights, he noticed something even weirder:

He got the feeling there was a Presence among the shadow. He was suddenly aware of a voice. A incredibly deep voice, but strangely deviod of timbre, full of soprano tones. It was, nonetheless, beautific. But there was something stubbornly familiar about that voice.

"LET THERE BE LIGHT."

And in an instant, the entire place suddenly burst. The shadows dispersed by the light, while the hidden landscape warped into a grassy plain. It was definitely weird, seeing the universe suddenly come into being.

And he saw Him. An immensely tall being, though looking nothing like the old man shown in painting. Yes, resplendent beyond words, yes, emitting a virtual aura of power, but there was something horribly wrong about Him.

This became apparent as he bent over and proclaimed, "HEY DUDE!"

Yes, apparently Beast Boy was God.

Cyborg had abruptly shot up out of his Frankensteinian table, screaming loud enough to wake himself up.

It was just a dream. Or...was it?

Yes, it was.

Robin got up, unaware that he had stepped on a rubber duck. As anyone who has suffered this experience will tell you, this always leads to disastrous occurences.

His particular accident included such delights as sliding into a pile of birdarangs, falling into a pile of small scale explosives, blinded by a spare cape, trying, but failing to grab the handle of his crime files, slipping past a rotating door, the painful feeling of being a human pinball on the inexplicable reflector walls and an excruciating encounter with a lost crocodile. The crocodile proceeded to slap him out of a window, whereupon, in a shower of splinters, he fell into a tree. Then the tree fell on him.

Meanwhile, Starfire, who had been having a fairly pleasant morn-ing, was waking herself by splashing water into her face. Unfortunately, this inexplicbly angered the Irony God of Irrational Occurances, who had recently been on the pointy end of a celestial repremand, and he vented his displeasure by sending a swarm of horrors beyond mortal ken on the impudent...whatever it was.

However, for whatever reason, it elected to be merciful, changed it's mind, and plagued her with things far worse than it's attorney.

Seeing something strange in the water, she bent over to more properly view it, when a pair of great big green claws grabbed her and dunked her underwater and through the plumbing.

It immediately rose out of the water of the bay and began shaking her, when the bogman abruptly released her.

Considering that a bunch of alligators proceeded to chase her, it depends on your point of view as to whether or not this was a good thing.

Terrified of a horrible snapping death, Starfire was too busy flying to see the ship; she, therefore, flew directly into a cannon, whereupon she was launched into a mainland mountain, where she fell into a patch of prickly bushes.

Hey, no one said the life of a superhero is a pleasant thing.

Wearily climbing out of the plant, she was too busy feeling for more pain to notice the small blue alien that stole her left shoe, which left her foot vunerable to a psychotic family of hedgehogs that quickly assailed it with spines.

Literally hopping mad, Starfire suffered the further humiliations of having a firevent open up directly beneath her, a short-fused lit bomb tossed into her hands, a fire hose spray her, and stand directly in the path of a herd of rampaging animals such as elephants, zebras, ostriches, New York tourists, and rhinoceri.

And then a bolt of lightning hit her.

The Irony God finally relented, but not before he dropped a celestial payload on her in the form of an anvil; dump truck; Mack Truck; A Cruise Ship, Boeing Airplane and three satellites;one of which was a spy for Major League Baseball. For added flavor, the whole thing exploded.

As the MLB satellite said, don't that beat all.

* * *

Due to not having a computer to check; keeping her room fastidiously clean; and not annoying temperamental water spirits of spite, Raven was having a rather different experience from the others. She was not suffering any horrible agony, physical or otherwise. 

She was about to have a difficulty of a rather more unusual nature.

She was meditating on a rock in the depressive mindscape she found oddly soothing rather calmly, when she became aware of something.

The sickeningly cute ravens that Beast Boy and Cyborg encountered when they entered her mind were watching her. That was unusual, as they usually ignored her.

She reminded herself to be watchful; they were one of several versions of her father's intrusions into her mind, after all. Right now, they were staring at her, with an awful hunger evident in their red eyes.

Suddenly, they changed into their slightly more realistic forms, toothy maws snapping angrily. Their eyes narrowed and the shade lightened, not in fury. This time, however, it was evident that they were terrified of something. Something behind Raven. She was aware of a immense shadow over her.

The psuedo-ravens mock ferocity abruptly gave way to the truer state in their hearts; they began to quiver in abject terror, and they took flight in a blast of wind, cawing madly.

And where they has squatted, a pair of large scaled talons clamped tightly. The sound of displaced air beaten by wings stopped with the swirling dust and the fluffed sound of folding wings.

And then there were the voices. A conspircy of ravens, flocking about.

Finally Raven gave up the meditation session as a lost cause and opened her eyes.

Her eyes abruptly lost their half-lidded expression; she shot up, staring at the visige of the creature standing before her. Her breath was vacant, leaving behind in her heart not the terrified horror of the demon-birds, but something very close to _awe_, the reverential fear familiar to true belivers.

The emotion abated, but the being did not. It continued to look at her solemnly. Taking a step, it tilted it head until it's head was almost at the breaking point, then it tilted into the opposite direction.

It walked towards her, and a feather brushed her. Now she was sure she was not hallucinating.

To all points of view, it was a giant raven. But unlike the smaller demonic ones that inhabited her mind, this one seemed at least roughly benevolent. Not to mention the difference in size;it had at least a twenty-foot wingspan. It's beak, feet and feathers were all black. It's unfeathered areas had a hint of dark blue, but the only sign of alternate color was the swirling gold in it's eyes.

Odd. She had thought that the eyes were a swirling gold, but now they were a deep shade of copper.

The strangest thing about, besides it's apparent perfection, was it's aura of wisdom and power it radiated, rather similar to Beast Boy's aura of annoyance, or that strange feeling of peace and tranquility being shot through the window whenever Starfire came in the room. And as far as perfection went, it was ebony avian perfection, perhaps an illusion caused by it's indistinct color.

It stared unblinkingly at her, and abruptly walked deliberately around Raven, as though inspecting her. Aware that it's pinions were inscribing a circle around her, it stopped where it had begun. It looked at the landscape, cawing approvingly.

It looked at her again, and did one of several surprising things that day.

It spoke.

It's voice wasn't anything to write home about, unless you had a really depressing home. It's voice had a sonorus timbre, and managed to be deep and high-pitched at the same time. Stranger still, it's voice had a quality which belied it's visige of magnificence; specifically, it sounded as though it spent it's time digging for bits of forgotten lore and secrets in what you could call the armpit of revulsion in a non-biased sense.

_**"Hey there."**_

Raven nearly jumped out of her shoes. It seemed somehow obscene for a giant bird to be a giant talking bird. Oddly, it seemed to be male to her.

Gathering her hood over her head, she quietly said, "Who are you, what are you, and why are you in my head?"

Looking around, he said, **_"Your head, eh? That explains the decor."_**

Taking note of her annoyed glare, he answered the rest of the question. "**_I am one of the denizens of the Middle Umbra, the spirit world of life. More specifically, I'm the Animal Avatar of the ravens; symbol of all they stand for; totem of many spiritual types; master of enigmas and subterfuge; creator of the world(at least to the Canadian Indians); knower of lore forgotten; unearther of secrets and Chosen of Helios."_**

He calmly waited a few moments for the half-demon to digest this. And Raven was having some trouble with this:_Creator of the World? Animal Avatar? _She had known of these things. An animal avatar was a spirit that was a living embodiment of that species, and they gained greater power with the animals numbers and beliefs surrounding them. But the Middle Umbra was uncharted territory for her. She was not very experienced with the spirit world as a rule. At least, not the one the spirit was refering to.

Looking at her, he added, "**_My name is not important, teifling. What is important is there are things you should know, things you might be better off not knowing."_**

Starting to walk away, he called out, "**_Follow, if you wish. If you stay, be content in this:You'll sleep better, at least, while your still alive."_**

Finished with his statement, he pondorously turned around and walked to the edge of the rock. His few moments of waiting were satisfied when his new accomplice ran up to his side, watching hin intently. _Wonderful, _he thought. _Just like one of my children. Maybe she has what it takes._

"I'm coming," she said decisively. Odd. She couldn't scan the spirit's mind very well, if at all. The only thing she knew was that he was not being duplicitious.

He chuckled surprisingly warmly. "**_You got guts, kid. But it'll take more then gumption to deal with what I'm about to show you, little fledgling."_**

"Enough with the nicknames," she said dismissively. "My name is Raven."

"**_Really," _**he replied, and she detected a hint of irony behind the comment.

They rose up into the air, and soared into a golden portal that the totem indicated.

As they entered it, Raven said, "I can't keep referring to you in the second person. What is your name?".

**_"My name." _**he seemed to regard the question solemnly. **_"My name as I chose when the Father of Us All brought me into being. You couldn't possibly pronounced or even understood by you. My name as your mind might understand it." _**The expression that suddenly swept across his face was unusually like Beast Boy's when he had succeeded in steering the converation to a joke he had been leading everyone up to for a while.

"**_My name," _**he said,**_ "is Raven."_**

Raven said nothing, staring at him. It did seem extremely obvious, in retrospect.

Raven regarded her with amusment.

"**_I told you it wasn't important," _**he said, as reality whipped, whirled, and generally made a mess of itself.

Meanwhile, approaching the city was an odd figure.

Such things weren't uncommon around this city, but this one was different in several regards. For one thing, he seeking neither to conquer the city, join the legions the Teen Titans, or eat stuff. In fact, he was totally unaware of the existance of the city, Titans and all. For another, he was traveling almost on all fours, leaping from tree to tree in a herky-jerky manner. And finally, he wasn't exactly human. Like the bottom of the ocean wasn't exactly dry.

Swinging through the trees, he jumped from a tree branch onto a trunk, sliding downwards. Sniffing the air, he intuited that the woods weren't very extensive. Pausing for a moment, he wondered why he couldn't orient himself. Looking upwards, he blinked in the face of the morning light. He suddenly growled.

Morons were afoot.

About twenty feet from were he had stopped, a couple of drunken frat boys were doing what they called kritter kicking. Specifically, they found a weak animal, and chased it down until either it's heart burst or they decided to shoot it.

Charming, isn't it?

At the moment, the object of their sadism was a runty kitten, which probably had a dim view of the sport. Panting with exhaustion, it abruptly stopped.

It had inaverdantly ran into a specially prepared clearing; surrounded with rocks on all sides, it was effectively trapped.

This sneaky suspicion was confirmed when two badly shaven humans staggered into sight, holding a gun apiece. One of them drunkedly said to the other, "C'mere Tom!" Both burst into laughter at this.

_Yeah, real clever,_ the kitten thought. Bad enough to be hunted by idiot monkeys, but for said monkeys to be making bad jokes was intolerable.

One of them seemed to be having second thoughts. "Steve, I don't think this is a good idea. The Boss might get mad...".

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh c'mon! He's the Boss! What's he going to care about off-hour activity, anyway?"

Apparently bored, he raised his gun and fired.

He was understandably surprised when no bullet fired.

"Huh? Whazzis'?" Confused, he looked into the barrel, when it launched a bullet that tore off his hat.

"Holy jeez!" This comment was aimed not at the decapping, but at the fact that, lit with a soft blue glow, the guns tore themselves from their owner's grasp and disassembled into scrap.

"Hey, morons!"

One of them pointed to a thing on a branch. "It..it..it...IT'S BIGFOOT!"

The green cloaked figure to which the speculation was aimed yawned lazily. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Sasquatch doesn't exist in San Fransico. I might have large feet, but I'm no ape. Unlike you two." He jumped down, and allowed the morning light to illiminate him.

He was wearing a ragged green cloak, one that had probably suffered it's wear and tear from utterly random wandering. Wrapped around his hands and feet was greenish cloth, possibly to soften the impact on his hands when he ran fourlegged.

But within, that was a totally different matter.

It could have a trick of the light or something far less prosiac, but the inside of the cloak led no truths about the creatures nature, but a pair of massive feet poked out. Of course, _paws_ might have been a more realistic saying as they were more elongated then a human foot, had large claws on each of the four toes, and all over that was ruddy orange fur with oddly runic stripes. And our of the back of the cloak was a long wavering tail, with a similar color scheme to the 'feet'.

He, growling loud enough to make a L.A. gangbanger look and decide he had an appointment to keep, decided to illustrate his potential danger to the two idgits.

A unanticipated wind sprang up, throwing his cloak back and exposing his true identity.

Both gaped mindlessly. "You're a...she's a.."

"Oh, shut up. Just because I'm of the feline persuation doesn't make me female. For the record, I'm a guy." the being hissed.

They gasped melodramicitly again. "He talked!" The creature rolled his eyes. _I'm starting to get really annoyed with the cinematics, _he thought. "Seems obvious t' me, dimwit." The two gaped again. "Jeff, I think we're insulting it," one muttered nervously. "Gasp and surprise! It thinks!" the thing said sarcastically.

_Enough melodrama, _he thought. _This is starting to sound like a bad summer movie._

Exposing predatory claws and fangs, he grabbed them by the collars and snarled. Though no powerhouse,(certainly not a mesomorph, those destined for a life of muscular power)he had sufficiantly cowed them to make them pliable for his intimidations. "I'd advise you to start running, before I show how the kitten felt." When neither moved, he yelled, "_Like right now!_"

Smirking at the monkey's retreating backsides, he muttered, "Stupid _yabbas._" At least he hadn't done something stupid. Considerable power didn't easily translate into the capacity for intimidation.

Looking at the petrified kitten, he twiched abruptly, for no real reason other then he felt like it. As he liked to say, "Normal is boring."

The kitten was spared the choice of moving when it's mother lept through the brush and gripped it in it's teeth. Instantly relaxing, the kitten went totally limp. Staring momentarily at the being, the queen gave him a look filled with neither fear nor respect. Then, it lept off. Regardless, he grinned.

"Havok 1, idiots zero."

That was his name, or at least the one he knew. It was an accurate one, nonetheless. As his powers,as elemental as his personality, proved quite often.

He abrupted raised his arms, the glowing green eyes underneath his hood attained a supernatural gleam. A circle of extremely complex white runes shimmered around his arms, circling slowly and extending from the forearm to just in front of the hands. There were four symbols at the end, each signifying the element of Earth; four slightly curved lines forming a square, a trio of triangles, a complex Asian pictogram resembling a higly stylized TC, and a slanting line crossed with five lines ending in a curve; all were connected by a line with tiny letters that resembled Elvish script above and below.

The spell completed, a section of earth directly below his large feet seperated from the ground, and flew him into the air.

_Why didn't I do this before?_ he asked no one in particular. It was a good question, seeing as how he had been wandering the continent aimlessly.

Inhaling deeply,he abruptly swerved upwards, soaring in the manner of birds and relying on friction to prevent falling off. The cloak almost completely straight with velocity, he suddenly fell to the ground. It was a magickly controlled fall, but a fall nonetheless. Zipped through the bramble forest with the greatest of ease, he jumped off the rock and into the air.

Plummeting to the ground like so much fruitcake, the rock soared and caught him. His heart had landed somewhere in his throat during this stunt, wondering exactly why he did this.

Loving the feeling of the wind whipping through his fur, he didn't notice the obstacle in his path until it slammed him in the midsection, throwing him off the rock while his transportation traveled heedlessly on.

Screaming in fustration at the commonness of that sort of thing, he smacked into the ground and rolled until he hit the tree that fell on him.

Standing up, he shook his fist and yelled to the chortling sky, "Why me! WHY DO I ALWAYS CRASH INTO AN INANIMATE OBJECT?" Fuming, he sat down and counted his 'accidents'. "Okay, that's been 24 trees, 35 mountains, 13 buildings, 54 random unseen objects and 31 and counting projectiles. You'd think someone with superhuman agility would be used to this." In a sudden fit of rage, he kicked the sign responsible, only to jump up and down in agony.

After a moment of the ow hop, he noticed it was a sign. "JUMP CITY, 23 MILES." Thinking for a moment, he shrugged. "Not like I have anything better to do."

He walked in the direction indicated, only to walk right into the sign again.

Meanwhile, something was rapidly encrouching on Jump City.

Something lost.

Something angry.

Something evil.

And that is a cliffhanger. MUWAHAHAHAHA!

Next chapter, Raven teaches Raven(Curse my cleverness! Curse you, I say!)an ancient prophecy regarding the Titans. And we get a closer look into the mind of the Titans! Plus, we recieve a further look at the misfortunate adventures of Havok, my personal punching bag! He he, I'm such a jerk.

Till next time!

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHA! And listen to Catmon! Reviewing saves the lives of favorite characters! Well, not really, but it's nice. Plus, it makes me want to sing! And reviews that consist of more then "yur stry iz kewl!" make me want to sing _away_ from you. So spare your eardrums and be informative!

Also, keep in mind this story will all too soon be a crossover. With what, you ask? Well, that's what occasional checking is for!

And as a final note, I'll give you...AN HVK QUOTE!

"Some days you are the coyote, some days you are the anvil."


	2. Futher Wackiness and A Cameo, Too

Okay people, I'm back, and prepared to annoy! This time, I'm getting into major oddity, and I explain some more of the cosmology of my little universe. Also, since this is my little universe, I've taken the liberty of designing new costumes for the characters. They look pretty much the same as in the show otherwise, though.

Personally, I like responding to reviewers. It keeps away the killer tennis rackets. And..gasp and surprise! I have no flames! What am I doing wrong here? If I'm not being weird enough to annoy someone, than I'm not doing my job correctly. Oh well. 'Tis my lot in life to be an irritating smart mouth.

Will-The-Titan:Uh, why do I get a boot to the head? Shouldn't it be on my foot?

Seriously, what's wrong with my story? It would be easier to correct if you said something.

Seth Turtle:Heey, I got a review from my favorite Teen Titan author! Yay me. Hmmm, you want to go into my head and xerox my humor centers? Well, the last person who tried that went insane for five months. Something about the monkey shoes biting their brains with pie crusts. I love your Teen Titans stuff though; you write the rare stories that I want to go back and read again. It takes real ability to write stories that good.

And Vinnie The Geek,I've taken your review into consideration. As you'd might have noticed, I think I did a good job of making things flow together. Teen Victorians is interesting, to put it mildly.

And, a comment from Zim!...who seems to be waving a picture hypnotically.

I aam Huugh Jaaackmaan, you must reeead and reeview. I am Huuugh Jaackmaaan, you muuuust reeead and reeevieeew...Watch Zim on Nicktoons!

Garfield says, When life gives you lemons, remember the citric acid.

Okay, enough with the gratuitous cameos already.

Disclaimer:I don't own the Teen Titans. If I did, Robin would have some marginally better taunts and Beast Boy would've killed the Nufu with water. I do own Havok, much to his regret. The Master of Suspense owns the following quote.

_In the real world_

_as in dreams,_

_nothing is quite_

_what it seems._

_**-Cold Fire,Dean Koontz**_

Had this story been an amusing magna inspired comic book, a small catlike yellow digimon would have appeared, recapping the events of the story with chibi puppets and storyboards. Therefore, allow Catmon to inform you in his obliqe, more than slightly obnoxious way.

"In the last chapter, Raven met a totemic raven-spirit in a oddity that still has HVK pounding his head against the wall, cursing his cleverness when it comes to names." He held up a Raven statue next to a raven puppet. Not to mention a weird little Black Mage in green robes pounding his head against a laughing wall of Weird Ideas.

"Prior to this, the others Titans suffered a series of bizarre accidents that have absolutely nothing to do with this so-called story, and were merely put in because the Author's a jerk with a weird sense of humor." Catmon indicated a number of panels displaying the accidents, including a picture of a fiery HVK towering over some hapless Titans.

"Finally, we met the peculiar elementalist Havok, who will have slightly more importance as the story goes on, but will suffer more pain, because it's fun to turn the concept of the easy life for original characters on it's miserable head. HVK would like me to point out that the furball is manifastly NOT a Gary Stu and I'd have to agree with him." He pointed to a picture depicting the said original character fleeing from horrible doom.

"Well," the Digimon finished. "I can't infuriate HVK anymore, so let's get this chapter rolling."

Thourgh it all, going through the portal the totem spirit had conjured was a great deal like getting stuck in a washing machine. It was unexpected, confusing, and at some point you wondered just how that happened.

All her life, Raven had avoided chaos, to avoid inviting in her father. And now, she was in the very center of it, the very heart of chaos.

She felt..._alive_. No, that would be wrong. It was the world itself that felt alive. Entire worlds, marked by the emotions of those who had gone before. A world holding the multitude of other worlds within itself.

The spirit world. The flip side of the Earth coin.

As she fell, she became gradually aware of the fact that she was no longer falling, but flying. Rising higher not into physical air, but into the infinite skies of possibility.

She didn't see much, but Raven did catch a peripheral glimpse at a hundred or so odd things that had inhabited the Tower's location once in life, spirits barely aware of the Titan's existence. And she did see a heck of a lot of ravens, flying with them until they disappeared in a blast of air and coal-black feathers.

Speaking of which...

Her guide, as it were, hadn't said a word since his bizarre revelation. He had said what he had said, and he was being smug about it too. Raven became subtly aware that she was riding on the back of the totem, not under her own power; she, for the most part, didn't know when this change had occurred.

Putting her train of thought on a temporary derailment, her world suddenly shook, twisted and swirled like reality stuck in a universal washing machine. Everything spun...and then she saw it. The spirit slowed down his flight, while Raven looked around in interest.(For the purposes of no headaches, I will henceforth refer to the Titan we all know and love, and in some cases worship, as Rae. The totemic spirit of Wisdom will be the Super-deeDuper Sock Monkey Puppet of the Pointy Pope. Kidding, I'm kidding!)

Looking around with a bit of wonderment, Rae said,"What is this place?" "**_The Astral Plane,_**" Raven explained, explaining nothing.

It was huge. About as big as the collective thoughts and imaginations of all the beasts, plants, and other things that lived on earth would be an accurate assumption, considering that was what it was. Here and there was small circular areas, images apparent inside their circumference. But they were relatively small and gauzy; _Dreams,_ Rae surmised. In much larger numbers were bigger spots, which seemed to be active thoughts. The rest of the place seemed to be a virtual panorama of color, changing into a thousand indistinct shapes, but too brief and uncontained to maintain any kind of shape. Strangely enough, the Plane seemed a bit constrained for a world comprised of consious thought. The totem had probably prevented her from seeing the whole of it in an effort to not have her be distracted. She supposed that the whole of it, unbound by spiritual might, would be comprised of all the thoughts at once.

In front of her, a shimmering section suddenly rose up. Shifting it's strange scintillating shapes in uncertain patterns, it turned a deathly grey pallor, and changed into a shape very familiar to her. Stretching into a height equal to her own, it's form rippled to form creases and folds, the peak changing into a mysterious hood concealing a face exposing only a grim scowl and violet eyes.

The dark Titan was surprised to see an exact duplicate of herself, costume and all.

It was swathed in a dark blue cloak, which hid the rest of her. The robe suddenly blew back, revealing herself. It's clothes looked like a full-length black leotard, except that on the wrists were cloth holding a red gem, and around the boots were large cuffs. The leotard also had patterns in it, patterns that were unmistakably in dark blue magickal shapes.

It suddenlylost a few inches and warped into the apparent image of Beast Boy, where it remained for a few moments. It had a black shirt with purple areas on the shoulders and sides, having a double black B on the purple back. It wore utilitarian purple-black shorts that were held up by a stainless steel belt and ended at the knee. The shoes had similar color scheme to the rest of it's wardrobe, except the soles had a pawprint mark.

It changed again, the form indistinct. Then, it rose up, higher and higher until it just towered over the silent bird-spirit. A pair of immense antlers topped it's head, and the four glowing eye slits shined evilly as it's molten breath illuminated the mouthful of fangs.

Then, it collapsed, evidently mirroring her wishes.

Rae's breath hissed from between her teeth, as Raven walked beside her and sardonically said,"_**I think you got something on your mind, yeah?**"_.

"You could say that," she muttered as a reply.

Even though his mouth was permanently frozen in a avaricious glare, she thought that Raven was grinning at her. _What does he have to grin about, _she thought sourly. It occured to her that maybe he inexplicably found something humorous about the situation.

_"**That's funny,**"_ he said reflectively. _"**I got a friend who knows a guy that has issues with **_**his _dad too. Nothing like your problems, of course._**

"This place," Rae said quietly, trying to ignore the spirit's irrelevent talk. "It is thought?"

"_**Yeah.**"_ Raven answered. **"_That's why it's called the Home of Thought. It's composed of all thought, all ideas ever experienced. In here, it's possible to be immersed in specific ideas of all who came before. Good or bad._**

Walking closer to what he viewed as his current protectorae, he added, **"_It's a hell of a thing to get lost in. I should know."_**

Rae's response was more caustic then a barrel of acid, and twice as insulting. "Are you implying that even supposedly all-knowing spirits get lost in their very homes?"

_"**Hey, HEY!**_** _Just because I'm all-wise doesn't make me infallible._**The spirit replied angrily._ "**Just very, very close. You'd get lost if you accidently flew into the inspiration for "The Raven", too. And besides, I don't live here.**"_

Amused, she changed the subject by saying, "Why are we here?"

_"**To the Hall of Prophecies.**" _

After a moment, he added, "_**Duh.**"_

Rae stared at this bizarre spirit for a moment. And she wondered, something that should have already occurred to her by now, wandering in the wilderness of thought with a totemistic spirit of wisdom in search of some esoteric hall.

_What, _she wondered. "_am I doing here?"_

What, she wondered, were her friends doing?

A swirl of color flashed around them, and the Titan briefly regestered the floating feeling of astral projection.

Within the subterranean garage of Titan's Tower, a certain cybernetic super-guy was busy.

Specifically, he was repairing his car.

Cyborg happily waxed the T-Car, having just finished the injuries it had suffered in it's most recent escapade of horrible doom.

It had been horrible. The redneck barrage had in the following order, ran his 'baby' over with two pick-up trucks, shot it with ten hi-tech shotguns, and pelted it with Johnny brand rancid tomatoes. And then, dare he think it?...they plugged in the _Official Redneck Oxford Dictionary_ to his car's circuit boards.

So, all in all, the repairs amounted to a frame, shield rebonding, reupholstering and a total system wipe and Lingo Reset.

It, he continually reminded himself, could have been worse. Unfortunately, there wasn't worse to do

Placing the final piece of machinery in, he congratulated himself on a good job.

It would seem he would have to do so again, when a loose floor board fell on it, smashing it yet again. _**"Oh, come on,**" the spirit said, "**You have to admit that was funny. On a scale of Peculiar Comedic Occurances, that was an eleven." **_

"Ooh, that did not just happen," Cyborg growled, begining to hyperventilate. "THAT DID NOT JUST HAPPEN!" He sat down, thought for a moment("_Maybe it's not as bad as it looks")_, and lifted the plate off to see what had become of his car. Seeing what had happened to it, he quickly dropped the plate, aware too late that this action aggravated the car's misbegotten state.

"Ah, no." he moaned."And I just put in the DVD player too.."

Angrily, he caught a reflection of himself, which didn't help his bad mood. Though he loved the three colors of grey, white and blue, seeing the abberation he had become never exactly made him in a mood to sing the Happy Happy Joy Joy Song. His large torso, which was mostly white with grey on the sides, had a panel on the front, and two capsule-like objects just to the sides of his neck. His shoulders, with blueish circuitry, had actual flesh (or at least something very close) right below, up to a point in the upper arm, where it seamlessly melded into the technology of himself. His lower arms were a mixture of blue and grey on top with white below and his stomach was paneled black metal. The machinery that served as legs looked much like a normal humans in shape, save for the black material in the joints. And his head; the bit of machinery was heavily paneled, except for the glowing red eye and the jack-port in the back of his head.

He was a freak. This was a realization he faced everyday, from the moment he woke up on his stand-up bed, to when he had to recharge himself at night. For the most part, he was comfortable with his existence, but every now and then, it hit him like a train;_ Freak. Abomination. Monster. _All just words, but that's what he was, and the realization would send him into a deep funk for days.

Every since he was a kid, he always liked the Frankenstein's Monster, and he realized too late that that would prove to be prophetic. He now identified with the creature, sewn together from six men and animated with a bolt of lightning.

Cyborg sympathized with the Monster now, an innocent shunned and hated by others for things outside his control. Of course, there was the fact that he was a celebrity superhero, beloved by Jump City and San Francisco in general.

Sighing, he bent over to initiate repairs.

All in all, it had been a weird couple of weeks.

Up a bit higher in the Tower, in his room, Beast Boy sat, eagerly munching tofu like several of the animals he changed into.

Unfortunately, he swallowed too quickly, and almost swallowed a spork that decided to mete out some stabbity vengeance for the indignity of scraping tofu.

Spitting the offending piece of cutlery out, he started thinking about the things that had caused him to devour with abandon. Slowly, his thoughts drifted to things he'd rather not think of.

And the grimmest things of all was what he called The Beast Within incident.

He was frustrated. Frustrated and tired of being pushed around, angry with being nothing but a comic foil. It had left it's mark; something buried far deep inside, inching closer to the surface with each passing day, something that had been unleashed. A savage monster, brought to life by a mixture of a surge of emotion and mutagenic chemicals. It had been unleashed on the world. A monster that was him, in all the worst possible ways.

A deep, dark part of him had been brought to furry, irrational life and he had the unhappy experience of being forced to look into the unseen part of what Beast Boy liked to think of as his soul.

And truth be told, he hadn't liked what he saw very much.

After the messiness, Raven and him had had a personal talk, and Raven thought that it wasn't entirely a mindless beast; after all, it had made a determined attempt to protect her from the Adonis-beast, so perhaps he had a small mental control over it.

Lately, he had become gradually aware that to the other Titans, he was a bit of a joke, and seemed to serve no other purpose. Even when he had been captured by that childish alien and proved they needed him, the others didn't really see him as necessary. His best friend had left for only a few weeks, and during that time he had felt vaguely lost, being that Cyborg was one of the most important members. His attempt to forcibly coerce Raven into playing video games hadn't exactly gone according to plan, and he still had a dull ache from where she had thrown the controller.

Probably the only thing worse than being the resident jester, though, was being seen as a monster. The shame...the humiliation...the utter shock that Robin and the others could have even thought him of being a would-be killer was horrible, even if him and Raven had been fighting. That they thought him capable of something like that was proof of a marked distrust.

His little experience with the Beast had taught him something. Though he didn't really show it, and he was perfectly happy to keep it hidden, the extreme anger and frustration at the realization that he seemed to be nothing more than a lowly jester had manifested itself in the form of a monster. A monster quietly biding it's time, not raging and screaming for control as before, but quietly waiting to be released.

It scared him for one simple reason; he had liked it. And it terrified him more than anything else he had seen.

And he had seen the darker side of Raven's delightful personality.

And Raven. Why did she have to be so...well, _Raven_? He could understand how emotions made her powers go haywire, and knowing you were destined to destroy the world was bound to put a damper on your mood. but she didn't have to constantly put him down.

He sympathized with her, though he doubted she would appreciate it. As if Slade's return wasn't bad enough, he had gave Raven the unfortunate news that was her birthright. It was something that would only give more things to brood about.

Looking down, Beast Boy dully watched his hand metamorphize into a pawlike shape, then resume it's normal form. Partial shapeshifting was a bonus to his misfortunate incident.

One of the bonuses of being a shapeshifter in mind and body was the fact that when he changed shape, his instincts adjusted as well, enabling him to use the new form as though he was born to it. And just being able to change shape was one of the most best things in the world, and being able to fly made up for the green skin and hair changes, which he didn't mind all that much. It was the, hands down, _coolest_ thing in the world, waking up and knowing with absolute certainty that you could be anything in the world, go anywhere in the world. Even when he was in the darkest of moods, shapeshifting was usually enough to shake him out of his funk. What really tickled him was the thought that he could become animals from other worlds; he would have to ask Star about some of those.

Lately, Raven and Cyborg had decided to test the limits of their own powers, and the results for Beast Boy were pretty interesting.

Apparently, he shapeshifted by use of a mental trigger, one that caused an automatic release of bodily chemicals that altered his DNA according to what he wanted to become, thus instantly changing him. It was a function of the conscious and sub-conscious, the former choosing the form, the latter doing all the hard work. It seemed it was a bit harder to maintain a much smaller or larger form, both putting strain on his psyche, and it took concentration to stay in a shape that was vastly different from his normal one, but Raven thought that he would probably grow out of that.

He had been given descriptions of the Beast, and what befuddled him was that it looked absolutely nothing like any animal he had heard of before; a bit like a sasquatch or yeti, with some elements of cats and dogs, but it was a creature unique to itself. And if he changed into it again, it would probably look a lot different; it was previously the result of chemical alteration, not completely his own prowess.

Sometimes, he woke up in the morning with a peculiar crushing sensation, as though the moon was falling. Going with that analogy, it was like something you were powerless to stop, so why resist?

Beast Boy sighed. Maybe he should talk to Raven about that; she probably knew all about that kind of thing.

He resolved to go to the kitchen. Hot tofu was good, but hot tofu in the presence of friends was really good. "But," Beast Boy corrected himself, "not as good as a jetplane full of flaming soy beans!"

Meanwhile, down by the base of the tower, Starfire wasn't having much success with her misbegotten would-be garden.

She laid down her doomed trowel and sighed melodramatically. Patience wasn't a human virtue she had developed in life.

After they had left Tamaraen, Starfire had taken some seeds of quiet plants she liked, so she could plant them. Now, in the wake of so much badness, she had decided to finally give them life.

She was certain these could thrive in the soil. Despite all their differences, Earth and Tamaran were very much alike, at least geologically, and the soil proved not so different. Besides, these were hardy specimens; they would survive without harm.

She really didn't have the proper personality for squatting in a corner and thinking dark thoughts about life in general and one's life in particular. Therefore, the gardening business.

This may have been caused by the extremely strange events of the early morning. Having hair structure that was markedly different from a human structure didn't mean that it didn't hurt when it singed.

She had smiled at the various momentos around the bright room; Several photos taken at the park, a picture with the team and other allies, taken right before Terra had defected...

Starfire frowned. This was the sort of thing that led to her bad mood, aside from the extremely bad morning. After the fight, they had collapsed, and the series of bizarre events had begun.

She looked at her room again, and remembered how little she had brought with her. For what she was planning, she needed something in particular. Glancing quickly at the open door, she reached into a drawer and pulled out a small object.

It was a electronic book, not from the low-tech Tamaeran. A book that had, with the exception of a man named Douglas Adams, never been heard of on Earth before Starfire came to the charming little planet.

But nonetheless, a wholly remarkable book.

Looking at it, she noticed it's small stainless black carrying case which had only two words on it, two large calming words which, due to a clever holographic trick, would translate into whatever language the viewer was most comfortable with: _Don't Panic._

This book was called _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,_ and it was one of the most bestselling books in the galaxy for a number of reasons.

The foremost, and the reason that Starfire had bought it from a trader, was because it was much easier to use then the admittingly more comprehensive _Megamaximillion Indefatigible Directory of Wholly Insular Thought,_ cheaper than the _The Standard Road Guide to The Universe_, an entertaining read and of course, the two aforementioned calming words: _Don't Panic._

It was extremely comprehensive, having been written by hundreds of researchers since conception and many years old. It had something to say on just about everything in the galaxy, from the snacks of Irk to the memorabilia on Cheepuslusstufia. It was invaluble for a traveler, and on Earth it had something to say on everything from botany to the arts of avoiding cab drivers.

However, Starfire discovered too late that there was a reason that the Guide's corporate offices had a sign that read _The Guide is definitive. Reality is frequently inaccurate._ Most of the entries were composed by drunk slackers who simply wandered in the offices at an appropriate time and the Guide was subsequently so hideously inaccurate that a book of fairly stupid tales was more truthful.

Therefore, when she arrived on Earth, she was under the impression that the place was mostly harmless. She was understandably surprised when she ended up in the less than fashionable side of Gotham City. The Guide was correct in the section where it said that landing anywhere was a good idea.

Therefore, she was trying, unsuccsessfully, to cultivate a garden that was falling short of expectations.

Speaking of when she arrived, the costume she now wore was similar to her Tamaranean clothes, except for the material. Instead of a skirt, she now wore what she had heard called 'shorts', which connected to her boots; she felt that this outfit was more efficient in a fight. Otherwise, in terms of color and such, it was similar. Except the collar was smaller, as she discovered that the heat of Earth made it's size a bit unwise.

It was an interesting read, the Guide, and she kept it around regardless. Starfire had no intention of letting Robin or any of the others read it, lest they get any bad ideas about the galaxy.

Speaking of Robin..

She had uncertain feelings about him. Yes, he was her teammate and a very good friend. But that didn't explain exactly why she had greatly desired to do horrendous things of indescribable violence to Kitten. It wasn't enough to merely smash her car; she had wanted to smash Kitten's face in for daring to look at what she, in her beserk delirium. had thought of as her personal property.

Gradually, she had learned to navigate the complex web of human technology, hoping to find out where Kitten lived and do something suitably painful, like poke her with baby alligators or read her Vogon poetry, or make her listen to the diaries of the Irken's leader Red. Instead, through the information that was the basis of human power, she had learned that it was common knowledge that she was, as they said, 'stupid'.

This infuriated her to no end. Just because she was new to this culture and all it's strange ways did not mean she was inferior in the intelligence department.

_I have learned much of an entire alien language, have I not?_ she thought. Of course, tactile speech assimilation was an innate gift to her species, but still, it was mean.

Starfire sometimes thought about how the vast majority of the human race who were without the unique talents she and her companions had been given. Many of the human race dreamed of having their special abilities, some so badly it ached.

She looked at her dirt-covered hands in mild wonderment. Back home, her gifts were taken for granted, everyone she knew possessed great strength (by human standards) and the ability to fly. It sometimes bothered her how fragile humans were sometimes.

Of course, the solar bolts were the exception to the rule.

After some of the others had learned their power parameters, Starfire discovered that she was a better lifter then Cyborg and like all of her race, she was a solar battery, absorbing the energy of the sun and transforming it into power. This wasn't anything she hadn't known. What she didn't know was that thermonuclear orbs and beams of energy derived from her solar store were derived from her anger; more specifically, their relative strength and heat were related to how angry she was. Mild annoyance caused singes, whereas blinding hatred would cause third degree burns from her hands alone. She understood that they were triggered by the chemicals released by feeling emotions, as well as releasing a mental failsafe for her more dangerous abilities.

Feeling fed up, she opted for some breakfast. Perhaps Cyborg had made some of the waffles he so dearly loved. Sometimes, she imagined that his love for waffles was a bit unhealthy.

Meanwhile, in the gymnasium, a certain martial artist was in the process of making a punching bag very unhappy.

It was interesting to note that while Titan's Tower, and it's gym in particular, boasted some of the most advanced exercise technology in the world, equipment that was enhanced according to the Titan's reletive power and comparable to the Justice League's Watchtower, the humble punching bag was quite probably the most therapeutic.

Robin was currently attacking it in a strange dance, a kind of marketable annuh-one-punch-annuh-two-punch-annuh-one-punch, in an attempt to work off his frustration. He always did it longer then the others, and sometimes after they were done, one or two of the others would watch; taking bets for all he knew.

He glanced at a mirror, content that he hadn't broken a sweat yet.

His costume was a bit brightly colored for midnight patrols in Gotham, but he liked it regardless.

The black and yellow cape draped his shoulders, while his reddish shirt had a yellow 'R' in the upper right corner. The red sleeve extened to his elbow, and his green gloved, secured by straps and buckles, had a small disk like object on the back of it to enhance blows. His yellow utility belt was pretty big, with a great deal of compartments and a large holster for his folding staff. As for pants, he wore a dark green affair that vaguely resembled tights, but not so uncomfortable. Finally, his boots were steel gray and black, with some armor plating on his heel.

He was frustrated, primarily because of the confusion. The recent troubles with Raven's 'birthmark' had brought nothing but confusion, needless to say, how he felt about the return of Slade.

_Slade._

The very name irked him, not as much as it did before, though it continued to run circles in his mind, like a paranoid rabbit with a caffeine addiction.

He jumped past the bag, striking it as he landed. In a real fight, his momentum would carry him out of range of a counterattack.

_Slade. Slade. Slade. Sladesladeslade. _

Obsession was an ugly thing. And worse, after Raven had returned, they had received a little present, though nothing as nice as replacements for the curtains Starfire had destroyed.

A simple letter, with a simpler note.

_I'll be seeing you soon._

_-Deathstroke the Terminator_

Slade had apparently fashioned a new name for himself, if one that was rather heavy-handed on the melodrama.

Stepping back slightly, he launched a roundhouse kick on the bag, dancing out of the way of it's swing.

And making matters worse, Slade was supernatural now. His 'father' would have balked at that, but Robin had no difficulty with that. It had to be true; he had broken every single bone in Slade's body at least once, and then, properly enraged, he had broken Slade's neck.

He knew it for sure. His shoe had hit his head at the right angle, he had heard the audible _snap_ of his neck cracking, and for a brief moment, had saw it loll lifelessly on his shoulders.

And watch as it rearranged itself and twisted in a three-hundred sixty degree angle, like out of certain movies.

What was he to do against such a foe? Slade had been inhuman enough before. Unfortunately, he could nothing more than wait and react.

And certain other feelings were bothering him as well.

It wasn't just the newly named Deathstroke that was running around in his head.

If he had an emotion in his mind, it was probably named Obsession. And it had more then Deathstroke the so-called Terminator to obsess over.

Back in the Astral Plane and area of general kookiness...

Raven glared angrily at someone's thought bubble, which was singing the them song for the Addams Family. "**_Hey, SHUT UP!"_** It ignored him, dispite his continued rantings and ravings until he just gave up.

Rae thought that it was an extremely good thing that this spirit world was just that of Earth's; otherwise, the noise would be unbearable.

As they flew, Raven spoke. "**_There is something I wish to discuss with you."_**

"Yes?" Rae replied.

**"_I trust you are familiar with the concept of totem spirit patronage?" _**Yes, it's the taking of a spirit's power in exchange for certain services."

Raven smiled, in his own way. "**_Correct. I was thinking. We share many qualities, you and I. Inquisitiveness, intelligence, wisdom beyond our years, a certain, shall we say, ruthlessness."_**

Rae was never one for stepping around the bush. "Are you suggesting a patronage?"

_"**No. A partnership. I could help you, and you could help me**."_

Powerful as he may have seemed, the idea of this overgrown bird having the power to help her was laughable. "How could you possibly help me?" she asked derisively.

He looked at her. _"**They say knowledge is power, Raven daughter of Trigon. And there is very little I do not know."**_

His statement hit her like a maelstrom. "How could you know that?" she asked, much incredulous.

He smirked. "_**Like I said. There is very little I do not know. I am, after all, the Master of Secrets.**"_

Rae's eyes narrowed. "Call yourself what you want, but I think you're nowhere as knowledgeable as you claim."

Raven walked over to her, and looked at her from his curved beak. "_**Oh, really? When you were 12, you started to have horrible nightmares of apocalyptic scenarios and a predilection for the color green.**"_

She folded her arms, looking like a petulant child. "That proves nothing."

Raven scowled, and the area around him turned to scorched earth. He hadn't wanted to resort to this, but she had left him little choice. **"_So I'm wrong, huh? I'm just a charleton, huh?"_** Walking around Rae, who was feeling a little nervous. Raven leaned forward and hissed,_ **"Then I guess we could ignore those little feelings about your green friend..."**_

That did the trick. Rae's formerly apathetic demeanor shattered at this words, as though she had been slapped. "What. Did. You. Say?"

_"**Seems like I hit a nerve, little human."**_ Raven said smugly. **_"Sure, you'd like to keep those emotions off your mind, but those things a nasty habit of staying, eh?"_**

Rae fixed him with a glare that emitted not daggers, but blades that would intimidate a ghost born of a nasty fencing accident.

In a jerking motion that seemed to be the avian equivilant of tapping a finger on the head, Raven said,"_**Tiefling, all your secrets are up here**."_

He adopted a slightly more benign aspect, as he calmly said,"**_I can help you, Raven. It does not have to be your fate to kill the world."_**

She was tired of the runaround. "What do you want me to do?"

He grinned hugely._"**How about on a case-by-case basis, let's say. Besides, you don't need to make a decision now. Think about it."**_

Turning his attention to the whirling portal in front of him, he hunched over, about to burst into flight, and paused, looking at Rae momentarily. "**_Coming?"_**

Rae was uncertain. It was completely impossible for such a thing to have known such..._private_ details about her. How had it known about Beast-

_Stop,_ she commanded herself. _Don't even think about that. Deal with it when the time comes, but until then, put it out of mind._

Nodding curtly, she followed him into the the airborne portal.

As soon as her shoes dissappeared into the whirling storm of gold, Rae felt the world warp again, like jumping onto a platform moving swiftly upward, reality dissolving and swirling into a mess and utterly inchoherent-

Then, it was normal again.

Of course, normal was a highly subjective adjetive.

She permitted herself a small "_Whoah,_" of surprise, and it was certainly well warrented considering the circumstances.

The word Hall of Prophecies brought to mind the image of a long musty corridor, filled with peculiar shelves of strange composition, each tucked to the brim with parchments containing old prophecies long past, with perhaps a musty gaurdian born of ancient legend or two.

The only thing the Hall of Prophecies had in common with that image was the long corridor.

For one thing, the floor of the place was made out of green,blue,white,black and red metals, while the walls were silver, gold and a strange steel like substance. All these metals were strange, far stronger than their colorations intuited, and that wasn't even mentioning the odd way they shone.

The walls were covered in peculiar carvings, some utterly incomprehensible, others plain as ten miles of bad road.

And, there were the voices, some singing what must have the words to the prophecies, others singing hymns in otherworldly languages. Theirs were soft voices, ones that caused the dust in the place to quietly shift in tune.

And it wasn't completely straight, either. At many other points, the hall split off to somewhere else, like a rat's tunnel.

They flew on in silence, quietly listening to other prophecies.

Rae had no idea about some of the dumber prophecies; there were quite a few on what Larry the Cable Guy would eat and reintroduce to the world in gaseous form.

As they walked, Raw became gradually aware of a sense of feeling significant. It was similar to walking inside after a night of stargazing and turning on all the appliances. As though you, not the nameless masses, was truly important. It was an effect enhanced by the distinct suspicion that the voices were singing not for the thrill of repetetively singing in droning tones for all of existence, but repetively singing in sonorus tones for your sake. Of course, there was the nagging feeling they were going to stop any second and start throwing rocks at you.

As they walked, she saw a slimy, dripping monstrosity look at her with a peculiar look in it's eyes. It's appearance was hard to see under all the slime, but it seemed to be vaugely human, though it was only hinted at by the constant seething mass of tentacles for a body. It opened it's mouth, with was framed by tiny arms grabbing at the air and filled within by constantly circling buzzsaw teeth. Strangely, it seemed to be wearing a tweed jacket and Oshkosh bib overalls.

"Hidey-ho, neighbour!"

That said, the inexplicably friendly slime monster slithered off.

"**_And that,_**" Raven said with a tone more suited for a movie about economics,"**_was what's called a random element of spontaneity. For instance, that slime guy has a personality similar to certain neighbours with unseen faces. I call him Ned Wilson."_**

"You live in the spirit world. How do you know about popular television?"

"**_We get all the channels up here;Cartoon Network, Nicktoons, Comedy Central. But not HBO. That would cost extra. Not that we're paying or anything."_**

Seeing Rae's bewildered stare, he added, a bit defensively,"**_We're immortal spirits from the dawn of humanity. Don't you think we get a little bored sometimes? You got your own TV show, for Dad's sake."_**

This smacked the Titan like a sack of Beast Boy's wet socks in the face. "I what a what?"

_"**You have a show, I kid you not. One of the ways I keep tabs on you. Not to mention comic books, toys, the whole shebang. Not in this dimension, of course. For all we know, our entire lives are a fabrication by some insanely bored kid.**"_

This almost made her laugh. "That's ridiculous; no one is reading the events of my life."

A moment skipped a beat as Raven thought of something to say.

"**_You should be flattered. I'm a busy birdie, but I'm paying special attention to you. You're of special importance, ya know._**"

Rae did not exactly relish the idea of a cheeky bird-spirit stalking her around and writing little notes about her tea brands on a sticky note.

"How else do you know about me?" she asked.

Raven looked up and shrugged. "**_I have my ways."_**

"**_Prophecies and stuff. I know somethings about, some things you're not ready to see yet. Things you won't have to see."_**

"And, we go with this celestial blindfold." **_"Gaia knows you need a blindfold. That is not a pleasant face." _**"You're one to talk." "**_Better a talking bird than a psuedo-goth." _**"At least I don't eat roadkill." "**_That would make Beast Boy more annoying than usual._**" "That would be physically impossible."**_ "So is flying around and lifting objects with the mind."_**

They continued on like that, coming to a large carving.

It was odd, primarily because it featured such things as a small green alien in the process at yelling at a small robot, Weird Al Yankovic and a bad Tarzan wannabe smashing into a tree.

"**_I have _got _to stop_ _letting those guys decorate. This is stupid." _**Raven growled.

"**_Are you sure you want to see?" _**he added, a bit uncertainly.

The dark titan regarded him quietly, and made her reply.

"No."

_**"Really? What changed your mind?"**_

"Simple. Those who see the future are doomed to bring it."

The totem grinned. **_"Finally. A monkey with some real brains."_**

Rae allowed the corner of her mouth to crease slightly. "What a compliment."

"But," she added, "why do you want to help me anyway? It would seem that the absence of humans would benefit the animals."

Raven chuckled. **_"Hardly. It would work for a while, I imagine, but keep in mind what Lewis said about how the animal's home is a place for Man to rule, but not to own."_**

"**And," **Raven's voice took on a sharp edge, like a knife oiled in the blood. "**_I know your father of old. I won't bore you with the petty details, but I ate his eye. Gave me gas, but it hurt him more."_**

This took a bit of digesting for Rae. "You...plucked his eye out and ate it?"

Raven looked at her and made a small noise. **_"What did you expect me to do with it? Donate it to the Chamber of Commerce?"_**

**_"Look, do you know why me and my children drink the eyes of the dead?"_** Rae shook her head. This was a fairly unpleasant characteristic of her namesake that she'd rather not think about.

_**"It's because when we do that, we see their last moments, how they died. It's part of my sacred duty to learn everything. When we do that, we bear witness to the last page in their story."**_

_**"No one wants to die alone."**_

Despite the overall disgust in this statement, Rae felt that the eye-drinking had it's own peculiar nobility.

Of course, Raven slightly off-set that feeling by adding, **_"Sometimes we'd do it to allies to figure out who killed them. We're scouts, so we sometimes gave the info to someone else."_**

"How'd you do that?" Rae asked suruppetiously.

Raven stayed silent for a moment, then said "**_Let's just say the phrase regurguitating information had to come from somewhere._**"

Rae sighed. "How did you fight him in the first place?"

"**_He's an idiot that knows not to mess with the spirits now. Let's leave it at that."_**

Rae deduced that she wasn't going to get anything from the spirit if he didn't want to. A quick mind scan indicated a impenetrable fog.

_**"Well, I can't do anymore damage today. I better go home now."**_

Starting to fly off, Rae interrupted his flight and said, "Wait."

Raven looked at her. **"_Yes?_**"

"I've decided to take you up on your offer."

Before her eyes, Raven seemed to visibly deflate, as though relieved of a great burden.

It suddenly occured to Rae how long this totem had lived, the burden of centuries on him. He said it was his duty to know everything, so others wouldn't have to know. Some secrets could break a soul; what burdens did this millenia old creature bear?

Raven made his equivilent of a grin. **_"Well, to comemmorate this momentous occasion, why don't I give you a lift home?"_**

To put it bluntly, the unwieldly pair didn't have a smooth journey.

"Stop shaking so much." "**_Hey, it's not easy to carry a teenager with one foot, ya know!" _**"Then use both feet." "**_Stop moving around, you're throwing me off!" _**"You whine too much." "**_And would it kill you to lose some weight?" _**"WHAT? DID JUST YOU CALL ME FAT?" "**_Owowowowowow! No psychic grenades_**!"

They arrived in Raven's mind more or less in one piece. Raven left her, but not before saying, "**_I can't manifest my true power on the boring place, (no offense, but your plane really is boring), so if you're anywhere spiritual, give me a call."_**

And, he vanished in a cloud of ravens. There was such a thing as over emphasis.

(Yay! I can talk normally now!)

Raven pondered about this alliance. At least she hoped she wouldn't have to do anything stupid, like live in a house with chicken-legs.

Realizing she was hungry, Raven decided to opt for breakfast.

In the dining room, she noticed an odd sight; Beast Boy was extremely jumpy, and jumped a little when he saw her. Cyborg looked as though his car had spontaneosly exploded, Starfire looked as though the wrath of Ironic Coincidences had come down on her, and Robin's state was best left alone.

They were being uncharacteristically quiet and Raven's appearance and subsequent eating caused no alarm.

As the clock hit 10:00, Beast Boy and Cyborg ran to the TV, fighting and screaming all the way.

Robin relaxed, sighing. Business as usual. They heard the usual fighting from the living room:"Hey! Who turned off the signal to Animal Planet? Cyborg!" "What? No I didn't!" "You lie! You liiiiieeee!" ; With the fighting going on, Starfire decided that the time had come for the World of Fungus.

None of them could know that the irregular cable reception was due to extremly unusual electromagnetic activity.

Meanwhile, in the forest, the peculiar magickal being known to his enemies as Havok and to his friends as a number of expletives was traveling through the trees in a outrageous acrobatic style that would have left the Brothers Karamatzov gasping in fear.

It was one of his abilities, this supernatural agility, and combined with feline balance, allowed him to traverse the skyline with only a statistically insignificant number of crashes.

Being rather fond of movies, he often had a score playing in his head. For obvious reasons, the one that played in situations like this was George of The Jungle. In fact, he liked it so much he was singing it.

"Hmmm, hmmm, hmm hmm hmm," he hummed as he bounced off a log and onto a vine, getting into the swing of things.

Swinging on the vine, he waited until the elasticity was streched to the limit, and released it, being sprung through the air.

"George, George, Geogre of the jungle, lives a life that's free," he sang loud enough for some squirells to throw things at him.

"When he gets into a scrape," he grabbed a branch, swinging until he could feel his fur start to slough off, where upon he released it. "he makes his escape with the help of his friend, an ape named Ape!"

He jumped on a log that snapped, which he didn't mind as he jumped off it and ran down a tree. "His elephant Shep can fetch a log, he's big, he's large, he's George's dog!" he recalled, leaping unto a log that he wrenched off and utilized as a surfboard for locomotion.

"Okay, okay, what c-c-comes next? Think, think, think! " he muttered tremulously in tune to yet another jump and landing on a trunk he bounced off among several dozen others in a rapid succession that could give an onlooker whiplash.

It hit him like a train as he grabbed a weak vine. "Oh, right! George, George, George of the Jungle, watch out for that-"

Havok suddenly saw that most annoying nemesis of all goofball forest dwellers, though far too late.

_BANG!_

"Oooh, tree."

Falling down, he hit a number of other branches and he had exactly four thoughts that summerized his situation perfectly:

He is sure.

He is swift.

He is smart.

He is unconscious.

_Uhhhh...wait, why am I moaning inside my mind? Am I that pathetic? Who am I talking to, anyway? It's not like I do that enough, anyway._

_Why is it so dark? Maybe I fell so hard my eyes popped out. Maybe a tree fell on me, decapited me, and I have three minutes left of awareness. Maybe I was out for so long, the Apocapalypse has come and gone, and the state of my cloak scared the Four Horsemen into stepping on my tail, which would explain it's inability to move._

_Or, maybe it's because my eyes aren't open._

_Okay, let's think. It's never a good thing when you wake up before your brain does, so let's assume that I, for a change, am not in the clutches of horrible doom, and therefore have no need to freak out as usual. Now, to solve this inexplicable opopponax of mine, I should probably see what I can sense here._

_Hmmm. Tactile spacial awareness seems to indicate a lot of air current movement, so probably a lot of people moving around. Nothing wrong with that, I'm probably at a university, and the astonished scientists are having a dance party before they dissect me._

_Not a comforting thought._

_I'm tied up; that seems evident. If not, then the iron chains indicate a worse day than usual. _

_Hmm, I'm sitting against a plastic thing, probably a pole, and I'm smelling...perfume?_

_What kind of kidnappers where perfume?_

_Okay, this pole thing could be benign. I might not be horribly doomed. I might not be in the clutches of untimely death._

_That might not be dried blood I'm feeling._

_Note to self:Never make generalizations about San Fransico. City of Angels, my furry foot!_

_Hey, wait a second. I'm hearing a lot of weird music. _

_Really loud music._

_Ow. I mean, ow. That hurts. Kinda hurts a lot._

_Okay, so have I built up a choherent thought picture yet?_

_No. _

_Maybe I should open my eyes now. _

So he did, though not without a lot of trepidation. For various reasons, horrible pain often followed imminent awareness.

And wondered exactly why he had bothered and didn't go back to sleep.

Looking around, he saw that the pole around him was surronded by a steel grate, probably to sluice the originator of the red stains around him.

Above him, the pole seemed to extend into a mechanical tree, only with veined pods instead of leaves. Odder still, the pods were alive; within were growing things, seemingly human.

He seemed to be in some kind of tiny military base that was funded by the Foolish Brotherhood of Idiots. This was an intelligent assumption that was thrown off by two things, not including the large sticker that read _Examined by FBI and utterly ignored._

First, were the people that were alternatively milling about and dancing to the easy listening muzak. They looked more like lunatic cultists, maybe due to the robes and glowing red eyes. One, catching the mage's eye, suddenly stalked backwards in a really bad attempt at quietly sneaking away, and cunningly dodged into a wall.

_It's like the only thing they know about stealth is what they learned in the movies,_ Havok thought. Considering the fact that they adhired to the loud and unrealistic styke of stealth found in the cenima, it was a good assumption.

And secondly, the complete and total insanity of it all.

The first and most important clue was that everything was an extremely bright shade of pink. Everything. And it was the sickening variety of pink that makes Goths, artists, writers and other weirdoes go beserk, to boot. Secondly, it seemed to be a neo-fascist corperation type of place; a theme that was helped by the deadly weapons strewn about, the awful music, and the logo that would've give M.C Esher a headache; a fist that was also a smile, with a slogan that read _Be Happy!..._**Or Else.** And finally, the banners.

The place was covered in bright fucisha banners, with such imaginitive slogans as _Bow down to the preppie cult! _or _Preppies will rule all with a happy iron fist! _and one banner was found every five feet:_We are the preppies._

They certainly weren't acting like military fasicts, however. The non-dancers seemed to have a tendancy to jump up and scream with nerve-wracking joy. It was enough to make a curmudgeon go beserk with irrate hatred. And it was making the normally laid-back feline annoyed too. For some reason, all of it was giving him the urge to evisacrate someone, a thought that caused his teeth to chatter in expectation of a death bite.

Looking at his tormentors clad in purple-red clad robes with glowing red eyes, Havok cleared his throat in a sqelching manner that made several of them squeal in horror at his total lack of manners and said, "I'm going out on a limb here, and this is just a guess, mind you, but I'm going to assume that you're a preppie cult come to enslave the world."

This statement set off all of them screaming, and some demanded to eat his brain, and others wanted to poke him with sparkly things. They all suddenly stopped, as one of them stepped out. He presumed she/he/it was the leader, for he/she/it bore several medals on it's front.

Hearing it speak, Havok noted it's voice had a strange quality, like something jumping off a springboard to somewhere else.

Pulling down it's hood and proving itself to be androgynous, it said, "We are the like totally destined rulers of the earth, in the tubeler prophecy foretold by Kim!"

The heads of every one present turned to a perfectly normal cultist, who said "We gonna rule world."

Havok stared at this new oddity. "You are? And what would you have the enslaved peoples of the world do?"

The leader started momentarily and said, "Um...so I can make them serve me granola bars?"

Again, attention returned to the leader in a massive swishing of machanically picked cotten, and the leader said "Now I, the amazingly well-dressed Bob, will in...interra...interaoga...make you tell stuff!"

Staring in stunned disbelief at the lunacy surronding him, the being indicated said "You're going to interrogate me? With what?"

The lead, apparently named Bob, said "Um...tell me how to rule the world, pretty pretty please with sugar on top?"

"No."

"Awww, come on."

"No."

"Pleeeeease?"

"I said no."

"But-"

"No."

"Ooooh. Meanie."

"Meanie?" Havok sputtered with some difficulty. "_Meanie?_ You morons are the ones who want to conquer the world for some utterly inane purpose that completely fails to imprint itself on even my brilliant mind, and yet _you _are the ones that put my moral intregrity into questionability?"

For a few moments too long, they stared at him in befuddled confusion, completely blown over. The biggest reply he really got was some jaws hanging open, making some inquiring sounds before giving up the ghost.

He sighed, muttering, "I don't think it was possible, but I think I fried their brains."

Then something occured to him. If these were really a horde of those 'preppies' he had heard of, than he had a fool-proof way of driving them insane. He had absolutely no idea of what to do after that, but he rarely did have another plan, anyway.

"YOU!" he suddenly yelled. "You, the idiot by vocation, really bad would be conquerer by profession named Bob!"

"Me?" the instantly meek leader asked.

"Yes," the evidently insane cat hissed. "_yooooou!_ LISTEN TO ME!"

The suddenly obidient leader came forward and stood there.

"_Are you obbessed with cleanliness?" _he muttered.

"What?" Bob replied.

"_Do...you...really...like...clean things?_" Havok said slowly and extremely clearly, as though dealing with a idiot child.

"Ooooooh, yeah yeah yeah!"

"Well, then." Havok inhaled slowly, closing his eyes, when he suddenly grinned his widest, eyes wide open.

Havok was not one of those people who smiled a lot. It wasn't because he was a cynic who moped about the end of everything. He was a cynic, but a razor sharp sense of humor kept it a way to make fun of day to day life. It wasn't because he didn't like to or had no reason to. It was merely because his typical look was vaugely concerned, and when he bowed his head, he looked downright evil. When Havok smirked or made a small smile, people said it looked nice, had a good warm look due to his deep laugh lines. But whether due to the fact that maybe his eleptical eyes went too wide sometimes, or maybe because his full smile gave people the unnerving impression he was about to go for the neck.

This was an impression not helped at all by his teeth. His smile was one that was made of several dozen jagged fangs better suited to being inches deep in some misfortunate beasts jugular.

He was making just such a smile now, lauging internally at all the recoils and screams.

"_Do you know_," he rasped like a denizen of Hades with bronchitis."_that there are tiny bugs living in your eyebrows?"_

This brought the desired result of many of them suddenly recoiling in fear and disgust; several set to clawing at their faces while other yelled for acid to dissolve the icky bugs.

_Wonderful. Now I got their attention._ "But that's not as bad as the mites that eat your dead skin."

This statement brought forth total chaos, as many of them started dropping on the ground and rolling around.

"But," Havok added evilly. "that's not as bad as the _blood-sucking plague bunnies._"

"What?" Bob said, utterly horrified. "What blood-sucking plague bunnies?"

Havok hoped he could pull this off; this last bit was completely imaginary, and he was bad at lying. But he was a good storyteller.

"Oh," he said dissmively. "just the ones that live in your guts that drink your internal fluids and nibble your-"

If the last weirdness had brought chaos, then this was total pandemonium. Every preppie started screaming as though it was the apocalypse; "Geddem off, geddom off!" "My spleen, MY SPLEEEEN!" "The BUNNIES! THE BUUUNIIIES!"

Bob suddenly yelled, "WE MUST SIIIIING!"

For no apparent reason, they suddenly burst into song:

_"We are the preppies, preppies are we,_

_We live in the Super Duper Happy Slappy Tree!_

At this point, the misfortunate feline finally noticed a sign pointing at the artificial tree, which happened to read 'This Way To The Super Duper Happy Slappy Tree!'

_We act like bees,_

_We don't like caprice._

Havok thought this song sounded oddly disturbing. Then again, it did lend notice towards suffocating conformity, which he hated like fleas.

_Between Lee and Mel,_

_We reign supreme._

As if on cue, several preppies burst out of hatches and windows to make odd noise.

_We live on fruits that fell,_

_We live in a complex by a fiber-glass stream. _

At this moment, the bizarre song took on an edge of menace, evidenced by some of them scowling at him.

_But alls not well in preppie town._

_Your freaky ways are making us frown._

This wasn't exactly news to him; he had a talent for irriatating people by his mere existence, a fact he expounded on. Considering what he had just said to them, this wasn't surprising at all.

_Only one thing to do,_

_Yes! There's only one thing cuz' we can't sue._

The dancing circle was closing around him, and Havok was reminded of raptors or eight-year-olds closing in on their prey. He certainly felt like a helpless beast or odd kid out.

_The only thing we can do,_

_is to run you through!_

Havok slumped. "Oi," he moaned. "Not this again. Not another psychotic cult that wants to kill me." Looking up, he said, "Uh, guys? Can we talk this over, maybe over a little steak?"

All present flinched at the mention of meat, and they pulled out a large stabbing instrument that he decided to call the Stick of Doom.

Whoever had made this had been given specific instructions. "Make it big," they were told. "Make it evil. Make it absolutely clear that there is a wrong end and a right end, and that anyone on the wrong end should know that their day is going to be unhappy and short."

Havok was feeling very unhappy, which considering the fact that he was on the Wrong End of a Stick of Doom, he had every right to be.

Havok closed his eyes, concentrating on making their doom very close.

Suddenly, he heard something that distracted him and the people who were in a long list of jerks that wanted to have the lucky honor of making him dead.

A crack of a branch. A strange flash of color. A flash of black and a big spine.

The aforementioned blade split the rope, and Havok suddenly flew into the air and his ruff into the grasp of a gloved hand as he watched the bumblers crash into the well-built pole.

He looked up to see who had rescued him and grabbed the loose area of skin on his neck, only to be blind-sided by a branch. "Sorry," said someone that was probably not the tree.

They abruptly landed on the forest floor, and Havok looked at his unexpected savior.

He looked human enough. His angular face wasn't sweat-stained, though it did have a few odd protrusions. His limp hair was the same color as his eyes:a dark black. In fact, he was clothed in a full-body black jumpsuit that didn't seem earthly.

"And you are who now?" Havok asked, somewhat annoyed. This had been a bad day, after all.

"Bladewing." the newcomer said briefly. "Ah," Havok said. "That explains everything, now doesn't it?"

Bladewing turned to him with a frown. "There's no need to be rude."

"Oh, really? See, I must have missed the memo that stated that you have no right to be rude after narrowly surviving an attack of lunatic cultists."

His would-be savior stared. Finally, he said,"I think you're upset."

Havok wearily clapped a paw to his face, letting it slide down slowly. "Sarcasm is a foriegn langauge to you, is it?"

"Besides," he added. "I don't like being rescued. It's my job." Bladewing blinked, and crouched, searching for scouts. "No need to look, my accomplice. They're coming, but they have no proper sense of forest navigation."

He got up, looking at Havok. "How do you know? I can't detect anything," he said, the most he had spoken yet. The adressed shrugged. "Simple. I have hyper-evolved senses. If I can track someone in a pig pen down by scent, I can find some random idiots."

Bladewing had to try very hard not to grin. This guy did have a talent. "So what were they?"

"Idiot preppies bent on conquering the world for no apparent reason." "Ah."

"So," Havok said, a bit desperate for intelligent conversation."Just how did you rescue me?"

"Simple." Raising his arm, Bladewing concentrated slightly, and at the mid-point between his elbow an wrist, a foot long organic blade extrueded through the cloth, then swiftly launched at at a stationary tree.

To fulfill the second half of his name, he extended his hand out, his brow furrowed in concentration. A nearby rock suddenly lifted, hovering to his hand. He then tossed it away.

"Ah. You're a telekenitic that can grow blades." "Bingo."

Havok suddenly exibited a phenomonon that both the sub-cultures of sufers and animal experts refered to as 'hairing out':he froze, every single strand of the long luxirious fur that he possessed stood stiffly, as wavering about as much as the redwoods of the state of California.

"The partys here."

Bladewing look around, and saw that the preppies were back, screaming and waving sticks.

Bladewing reacted before Havok did, flying into the air and ignoring his well-meant advice through the woods.

"Watch out for those vines!" "Relax." "Duck!" "It's just a branch." "SNAKE!" "Big baby." "Look out!" "Hey, I know what I'm doing." "Bladewing-"

The addressed's head whipped towards his unwanted cargo, yelling "WHAT?"

For answer, Havok pointed and yelled, "Look out for that tree!" "Huh?"

Bladewing turned too late, and smashed into the trunk in a imitation of what Havok had done not too earlier.

Down they fell, smashing into braches, smacked trees, bouncing of vines and each other, at least until they fell into a clump of vines that snagged a log, and just when they thought they were going to hit ground, snapped up and were wrapped around the log rather snugly.

As if on cue, the hollow log snapped off the tree it was situated on, and landed directly on the Super Duper Happy Slappy Tree.

Thinking about the impossbility of circling back to sqaure one, not to mention the sheer lunacy of this, Havok said, "I'm new to this whole rescuing thing, but this, to me, might be considered a step backwards, don't you think?"

For reply, Bladewing said, "I don't know about you, but I'm all funned out."

The feline had to agree. The frentic pace of the last thirty minutes was two much for an aspiring writer whose idea of exercise was getting up grab the remote.

"Listen," the telekinetic whispered, though he was on the opposite side of the log. "I think I can break us out, but I can't think of any thing without hurting these cultists."

"Actually," he muttered. "there's no harm there. I say we clobber these morons."

"Say what?"

"You don't have my enhanced senses, so you can't heard the electronic buzzing, the circuits clicking around each other, the tiny signals-"

"What? These guys are robots?"

"Exactly. Probably some 'droids or something that devoulped just enough artificial intelligence to rebel, but not enough to qualify as real intelligence."

"So," Bladewing surmised. "you're suggesting a sneak attack."

"Yup. You up for it?"

"Just wait for my opening."

As if on cue, Bob showed up again, but this time it and it's cohorts were armed with unfriendly weapons that happened to be of the sparking stick persuation. "Okie-dokie," it squealed. "Let's go make kill on 'em!"

"Someone call the Grammer Police; you're murdering the English langauge." Havok growled.

Starting in surprise, Bob nonetheless charged.

It was, therefore, unfortunate for all non-organics present when Bladewing popped loose.

What he did was simple; he relaxed, and five foot blades sprung from his forearms, shoulders, elbows, knees, and knuckles; the effect of this was not only to break the robes and generally terrify the idiot attackers. Springing up, he was mildly surprised to see them shed their robes and skin to reveal the robotic insides.

Havok was too, but that didn't stop him from jumping off the Tree's branches and grabbing two high-tech heads with his feet and launching their accompining bodies at two others in a flip.

Deciding that was his cue to attack, Bladewing happily started slashing robots, jumping forward in a spin to attack two enemies, removing the torso of one other with a low slash, and slicing the power core of another with a quick punch.

Glowing runes of blue-white light enshrouding his hands, only the pictures were air-related and emitting sparks and making his fur stand on end, Havok said, "This may be a shock to you-"

The runes suddenly intensified, spewing thunderbolts that leaped from foe to foe in a shower of sparks and a lightshow like that of a snake playing leapfrog.

"-but anyone who thinks it's easy to kill me is about to have an electrifying expiriance."

Bladewing glared at him for the bad pun, and he defensively said, "Oh, c'mon. Shock...electrifying...thunderbolts;it's funny!"

Bladewing only shook his head in annoyance and shot a blade thorugh another.

Havok jumped thorugh the air, off a head, knocked down a robot, spin-punched several more, and threw some large rocks at a random target. Bladewing, on the other hand, stood impassively as several ganged up on him with the sticks.

"You should have down your homework," he said quietly. Then his eyes flew open, with a strange color. The sticks abruptly jumped away from their owners, to hover in a circle around Bladewing. "I use telekinesis. We're the ones that manipulate matter through the power of the mind. My only limits are will and imagination. The one stole those sticks from you-"

The said sticks flew towards their former owner, intent with vengance for all the humiliations put through. In a shower of sparks, they impaled their wielders.

"-the other gives you a bad stomach ache."

Havok grinned evilly. "Nice trick, Bladewing, but here's time I showed you one of my personal favorite magick tricks."

His eyes suddenly turned a bright luminesint green. But, a green emitting large energy sparks at the corner and glowing in tune with the red runes on the arms he had crossed together.He suddenly flung them to the sides, and the grew larger, the flame-based pictograms shimmering. Suddenly, a virtual aura of fire spread to his shoulders from his clenched fingers. It didn't seem to harm him at all, but the effects were evident on the area around him; the air around him began to sizzle, while the ground melted around his sinking feet. Fortunately, he was spared from any of these harmful effects; he knew what he was doing.

Havok turned his head back and inhaled. To describe how he was able to fully manipulate the elements was akin to describing his artistic skill;it was pretty much the same thing. It was fun, too. Not to mention his sixth sense; he was aware of everything, the magnetic movement of his mettalic foes, the twist and pull of the winds and water, and the very life of the fire he was now bringing to being.

Oh, how he _loved _being himself.

Instantly alert, he threw the first fireball. It burned the air, and Havok did hope he wouldn't miss. He could easily contain the fire, but the question was whether the explosive power of the elemental fire would harm anything. He was a really bad aim.

Fortunately, he didn't have to panic and squeal like the coward he was, because it hit the robot dead-center. Not to mention caused a nice explosion.

Then he threw the other one at the Super Duper Happy Slappy Tree, eliminating their method of production.

He heard the sound of clapping; Bladewing, somewhat impressed.

After a few moments of eliminating the remaining androids, they stood together, wondering what to do.

"So, uh...where's Jump City?" Havok asked uncertainly.

For answer, Bladewing pointed north. _Oh, that's a definite answer, _Havok thought sourly.

Bladewing decided to ask something that was bothering him. "How did you get captured by those idiots, anyway?"

"...I swung into a tree and got knocked unconcious."

"So, what were you doing here anyway?" Havok inquired, hasty to throw off his own stupidity.

Bladewing sighed. This was a little embarrasing. "You mean besides saving you from your rampant idiocy? I really don't know."

Havok nodded. "Well, bye."

He walked off, and Bladewing was feeling rather happy about it. Not really a team player and while interesting, he was a smartmouth, to put it nicely.

As he finally reached the perimerter of whereever it was that he was getting to, Havok wondered something:

Why were there vines in a tropical forest?

And whatever happened to those morons in the woods?

Terror was not something that X11 was used to.

It wasn't that he was particularily brave, insane or emotionless. His capacity for courage wasn't extensive at all. His well-built mind was far too analytical for madness to gain a foothold, and he was emotionless; he simply didn't register fear as well as those born of flesh and bone.

He was unique in all senses of the word but one.

But this...this thing of such chaotic supernatural chaos was a horror beyond all words, a, for lack of a better term, _reality deviation_.

The very thought of such a thing brought the unholy jitters to him. He reprimanded himself for the mere thought of such superstition, even if it was innocent.

For a brief moment, he wondered how his thought processes had so rapidly cleared up from their former drunkedness, then he recalled that he was exceptionally well-built.

His companion, whose true 'identity' was X10, was far less excitable then himself. It had been deemed that a fraternity pair was best composed of a easily frightened and a stotic personality. The two mindsets complimented each other and was normal in all senses, so their minds had been designed accordingly.

Many words could have been used to descripe the two, but in the mind of the one who could be their only god, _progressive _was most apt.

He had made them so. If they were utterly terrified almost to their parameter limit, then it was a fault of their own imitations, not their maker.

X11 shivered unhappily, cold from their hurried flight through the woods. "_What..what should we do?_" he whispered in terror to his companion.

"We should report to Him. The infiltration was a failure, and we were anbushed. Returning is logical." Of the two of them, X10 was more machinelike, often speaking in unimaginitive phrases and in sentence fragments. He perhaps put too much faith in logic. X11, being of a later build, had enough artificial humanity to know that logic, pure and perfect as it was, wasn't always the perfect answer.

"Him?" X11 muttered nervously. "But..He'll be angry...we could be recycled..."

"A minor possibility." X10 said dismissively. "It would be sensible to allow our continuation. The failure was no fault of our own. It would be _illogical," _he said quietly, as though illogic was such a hideous obscenity that say it normally would to invite instant destruction. "and if we are recycled, it will only be meeting our inevitable fate as Infiltrators." he finished abruptly, as though the prospect of oblivion troubled him not in the least.

Perhaps it didn't. X10 was never one to be ingaged in hope or any other activity he deemed trivial, which was any that was unofficial.

Hoping that he was not going to anger his creator, he hastily concentrated for a moment.

Someone watching at that moment might have been absolutely horrified, as the formerly stable unknowable surface beneath his epidermis began to _squirm_, moving constantly underneath his illusionary flesh, as though several butterflies had burrowed under his epidermis and were dancing to the tune of _Under Your Skin_.

Shortly thereafter, X10 followed, looking not at all uncomfortable as his entire inner structure twisted and warped itself.

Raising his fingers to his pale flesh, the Caucasion color of which had been determined owing to it's commoness,he placed a section of the skin between forefinger and thumb, the scrap elongating oddly.

Streching it until it was about six inches in length, he nodded in satisfaction and ripped it off entirely, his 'brother' following suite. He may have been more timid, but he was the determined leader owing to model make.

He looked at it, satisfied;everything seemed to be in order. Below his wrist and just above his elbow was a menagerie of almost unimaginably complex technology that made up his inner self. The stuff that made him a being far greater then the masses of humanity, or so he understood.

The teleportation program activated, they each mentally pushed the trigger and they vanished, leaving only a small implosion of air.

They reappeared in an office. But what an office! It was small, but large and luxiours in it's own way. This was a hidden place, and not for the first time, X11 noted a series of newspaper clippings and over a great many of them, an X over the pictures.

X11 was puzzled. He felt the clippings had importance, but he couldn't possibly fathom it. Such were the ways of gods.

Feeling the customary laser stare behind him, he suddenly realised that his creator was behind the desk.

Abruptly turning around, X11 stepped forward and bowed deeply, while X10 nodded curtly. This complete lack of sanctimony frightened X11; one never gave the Boss disrespect.

The Boss smilied thinly. His face seemed to have been chisled by hammers and chisles of the highest calibur, his features as flawless as a computer generated image of a perfect human. He was not tall or short; he was comfortably somewhere in between. He was muscular, and dispite the fact that he always wore an immaculate business suit, he surely had more muscle tone than a supercomputer had wiring. His eyes were as blue as a moniter's screen on standby, his flesh as pale as newly molded plastic. And words couldn't describe his teeth and the incredible feeling of seeing him look at you with an approving smile. Tapping the massive mahogony desk light, he stared blithely.

He was a god. If not for him, X11's kind would not exist. He had total power over them, complete control;if he wanted to erase them from the history of the earth like old files, he would do it, with not a moment of heistation. He controled their lives, and they know it.

He wasPreston Steven Shaddack, and he was their creator.

"So." he said quietly. His deep tones had a quality that X11 couldn't describe, but he dearly wished he could. It was probably what Moses supossedly heard on that mountain of old. "You have failed. I must ask _why_."

More then the accusing tones, as though it was all his fault, all his own, the note of disappointment evident in his words stabbed through him like a javelin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that X10 was standing impassively; impossible as it seemed, it was as though the words ofPreston Steven Shaddackcouldn't affect him for better or worse.

This did not escape the attention of the sillicon god. Shifting his attention from the loyal X11, he looked torwards the sentinel of a New Person, X10.

"Do you have something to say?" he enquired politely. X10 seemed startled at being addressed by his creator so directly, but nowhere near as much as X11 would have.

"Yes, sir." He said haltingly. X11 felt a shudder like the crawling of spiders in his mind; nothing good could come of angeringPreston Steven Shaddack. "Inquiry:If sir is as proficient as memory circuits indicate, why does sir persist in sending envoys such as unit X11 and unit X10?"

This was a most shocking devolupment. X10 the logical, X10 the intelligent was actually accusing the creator of cowardice! This was like a physical blow to him, and toPreston Steven Shaddack, it was an unanticapated surprise; his eyes diliated, and his nostrils flared.

He looked at X11. Directly at X11! "Step away, Infiltration Unit X11." The indicated New Person scuttled away obediantly, waiting to see what would happen.

He stepped around his desk, looking at the android eye to visual locater. "So, correct if I'm wrong, you're asking if I'm too much of a coward to do the work myself." X10 nodded curtly. "Well, allow me to answer in the most frank possible way," he said so genially, X10 didn't notice the large hands that had settled on his head and tightened with a grip normally found only in sleeping birds.

X10 struggled pitifully to pull away, but deeply centered programming prevented him from acting in any way that might harm or inconvience Preston Steven Shaddack. As a sort of feebled protest, his legs buckled.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to such a husky whisper that X11 had to adjust his hearing to hear properly.

"_I only do the wetwork when I **really **want to do it."_

With that said, X11 watched in horrified fasination as he crushed the skull of X10 with considerable ease considering his mechanical make-up, with obvious pleasure. X10 seemed to disagree, as his screams lasted as his macroprocesser was crushed by the combined pressure of the Creator's hands and the remains of his face.

His breath blasted from his clenched teeth, not even panting with exertion, and he increased the pressure with a small grunt of exstasy.

A low crunching sound mixed with a murmur of dismay as X10 died.

Breathing heavily,Preston Steven Shaddackdropped the corpse, disdainfully wiping his hands of the oil and blood.

As if he had done nothing more than wipe off crumbs, not enact his righteous judgement, he said to X11, "He doubted. You do not. I have a job for you. But first, I will show you something; you can report to the Central Room for more briefing."

Entering a hidden elevator, they entered a subterranean laboratory.

Walking deeper and deeper underground, X11 was awed. Not only were they approaching the hidden place of his birth, but he, X11, had been singled out! Him, X11, had been specially chosen out of all the New People for a unique assignment!

His frantic thoughts were interrupted when they entered the chamber housing the creator's latest project.

It was filled with scientist's scurring around the greyish sealed room, but the most significant thing of all was the thing in the room, with a great deal of arms moving across it, in the process of becoming a cyborg. The thing was bolted to the table,probably to prevent it's incessant flailing from harming itself.

It appeared to have been a fifteen year old youth, except that it's appearance had been altered with the joining of metal to it, which appeared to make it greatly uncomfortable. This seemed evident by the thin wailing. All around it, arms were conjoining more metal to it, adding more mechanisims to it and making it better.

Preston Steven Shaddackwalked to it, running a finger slowly along it's cheek, elicting the loudest scream X11 had ever heard; it was as though this former human had it's skin peeled off with a rusty knife, and the exposed nerves had been rubbed with sandpaper covered in starved fire ants. X11 thought this a clever thought.

"Soon," the sillicon god sighed. "my son will be a disgrace no more."

Quietly, outside his perception, instruments hummed and whirred, detecting something. A extremely odd phenomonon.

The animals were aware of it. A strange change in the air, the peculiar sudden absence of clouds and stirring of trees formerly still like the breathless dead.

It was as though everything was frozen. As though they were waiting for something.

Almost imperceptibly, the sky began to darken, though it wasn't noon quite yet; the effect was distorienting, making one feel as though one was in the Bristish isles.

The sun had a distinct feeling today probably wouldn't be a good day to attempt to bring light to that particular city. Still, it did so anyway.

The strange meteorlogical alterations stopped at Jump City's borders;whatever it was, it was restricted to the Californian city.

Softly, small gauzy winds floated down and swept through the city, bringing fog silent and enigmatic as a cat. The fog swept the city, filling up the alleys, smoothing over the glare of lights and generally giving everyone the creeping jitters.

Gradually, some people noticed something extremely strange; the lamposts were being affected in a peculiar way, growing dimmer or brighter, in some cases going out either because of a total lack of electricity or due to burning out in a shower of sparks. Those watching couldn't escape the feeling that the dispersed electricity was asending towards the clouds, as though it was a greedy child that hadn't it's fill of shockingly sour candy, and was sucking them up like a tornado.

Business continued as normal in the state; various people watched for a moment, then got on with their lives. They had seen stranger things than an early stormcloud, and the local celebrites had thus far inured them to weirdness. A storm with no proper idea of how storms are supposed to act was nothing compared to a lot of other things they lived with. Sure, it caused some degree of surprise; various street prophets started screaming about the end of the world by lightning, others proclaimed that an avatar of Justice was coming, and the various muggers, serial killers and insurance salesmen were inexplicably killed by the sudden drop in tempature, thus allowing children to roam the streets without fear of being robbed, killed, or sold insurance, which as anyone knows, is good until you sneeze. Of course, they would be respawned in the closest used shoe store in a couple of days, but this ruined no one's mood.

Overall, business continued as usual.

After all, this was California.

Heh heh heh. Personally, I liked the fight scene, but it sort of lost momentem as it went on. I think it went pretty good, but I did write it. Well, see ya soon.


End file.
